


Picking Rainbows

by mediocrityatbest



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Platonic Soulmates, Polyamory, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediocrityatbest/pseuds/mediocrityatbest
Summary: The black marks on his hand and arm have bloomed into a riotous rainbow of colors, bright and dark, and Virgil is thinking my soulmates just pickpocketed me.Virgil spins around and for a moment, the three of them are just staring at each other.Then Virgil says, “You two assholes stole my shit!"Or: In a world where the first place you touch your soulmate turns a rainbow of color, some people end up in sticky situations.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 204





	Picking Rainbows

**Author's Note:**

> I did not start out with the intention of it ending this way, but then Patton said Gay Rights and I had no choice.

“Where are my gloves?” Virgil yells, digging through all his pockets and the key bowl. When Logan comes into the room, a pinched look on his face that makes his soulmark wrinkle up, Virgil’s hands are full of his keys, his wallet, a random glass vial, change, and a few small rocks. “Have you seen my gloves?”

“Sorry, dear,” Logan says. “I didn’t think you would need to go out today and I threw them in the wash.”

“Damnit,” Virgil says, glaring at the black marks on the back of his knuckles. They stare at him accusingly, like they’re saying  _ you can’t not meet your soulmates forever. _ He knows he’s angrier about the situation than is called for. Stupid anxiety. He takes a deep breath and shakes himself out. “Sorry. It’s fine. Thank you for washing them for me. God knows last time I did it.”

“That’s quite alright,” Logan says, and he leans in to kiss Virgil quickly. “Perhaps while you’re out today, you should endeavour to buy another pair to replace the extras that were...destroyed last week.”

“Maybe you should endeavour to-” Virgil slows down and makes himself stop. Being unnecessarily rude won’t solve this, and he’s been working on his temper—it’s an on-going process. He smiles hesitantly, chagrined. “Eat something healthy for breakfast before you start working today?” Logan huffs an amused breath, but he gives Virgil a soft look.

“You know I shall. Now, you may want to hurry. You are about to be late.” Logan casts a quick glance at the clock, and Virgil jolts.

“Shit, yeah. Alright. Bye. Love ya.” He kisses Logan one more time and rushes out the door. The walk to the doctor’s office takes him a little longer than it usually does but there’s a breeze and the sun’s not entirely out, so it feels good. Virgil can almost ignore his anxiety over being late and enjoy the weather.

Almost.

He’s on the edge of a panic attack when he gets into the office, though he doesn’t think the harried receptionist notices at all. He’s quickly checked in and only has to wait for half an hour before he’s brought back. It’s a routine check-up, just to make sure that he hasn’t gotten a deadly disease or tumors or anything like that.

And the check-up is routine, even though he spends most of it doing subtle things like counting his breaths and naming things and tapping patterns on his legs to calm down and stay that way. Everything is normal and he’s not dying and that’s as it should be. It does a lot to help him breathe easier.

“Well, everything seems to be in order, Mr. Eli. If-”

“Abbott,” Virgil corrects the nurse. At her confused look, he elaborates, “Virgil Abbott. I’ve gotten married since the last time I was here.”

“Oh, well that’s just wonderful! But it says here you didn’t update your soulmate status. Let me just-” The nurse trails off to look for Virgil’s file, and he has to interrupt her again.

“I didn’t meet my soulmate,” Virgil says. He winces at the look on her face, the total incomprehension, and knows this will be a rough conversation. He barrels on. “I didn’t meet my soulmate. I got married to my boyfriend of six years, but we’re not soulmates.”

“You know,” the nurse says, taking a few seconds to recover and then getting a holier-than-thou look on her face, “you shouldn’t be marrying someone that you aren’t fated to. It isn’t right.”

“Oh, gods,” Virgil mutters.

“You’re robbing him of getting to be with his soulmate, and you’re taking the chance for your soulmate to get to be with the one they love.”

“They don’t even know me. They might not even like me,” Virgil says, and you’d think after dating someone he wasn’t soulmates with for six years and having been married for almost one, he’d have learned not to engage with close-minded people about things that he obviously wasn’t going to have any impact on.

And yet.

“That’s not how the soulmate system  _ works _ ,” she says, stressing the words like that will make Virgil believe her more than all the years of conditioned believing he’d already had to undo. “You will love your soulmate and they will love you, and you’re going to regret marrying someone that you aren’t fated for.”

“Sounds like a you problem.” Virgil shrugs and stands up. “I’m leaving. Have a good day.”

“And you, Mr. Eli,” she says.

“Abbott,” he snaps, and stalks out of the room before she can say anything that might tempt him to put his fist through a wall. It wouldn’t be the first time some asshole prompted him to take his anger out on some innocent, inanimate thing that happened to be unfortunately close to him.

He gets out of the office pretty quickly after that and is ten minutes into his walk home when he realizes he left his jacket in the office. Now the soulmark on the knuckles of his right hand and the soulmark on his left forearm are both on full display, and everyone can see that he hasn’t met his soulmates yet. Great.

He’s far enough though that he’s not going back for it. He still has his wallet and keys and everything important, so it’s not a big loss. He’ll just have to buy a new jacket. Or maybe Logan will be willing to pick it up for him later.

Gods know Virgil will probably get in a fight if he has to go back and ask that nurse for anything.

Anyway, it’s pretty warm out now and he doesn’t have to be anywhere. It feels nice. Maybe it’s a good thing his jacket got left behind. Going out without it once doesn’t mean anything. Nothing will happen. He’s just being paranoid.

He’s about fifteen minutes away from his house when two guys brush up against him and offer muffled apologies. Virgil reigns in his reaction to snap at them and forces himself to take a deep breath. He sticks his hand in his pocket to get his phone so he can call Logan and see if maybe they could have a picnic today since it’s so nice out and-

_ It’s gone _ .

Virgil very quickly realizes that not only is his phone gone, so are his wallet and keys and all he’s left with is pocket lint. Then he feels the tingling.

The black marks on his hand and arm have bloomed into a riotous rainbow of colors, bright and dark—he thinks of the mark on Logan’s forehead, in more shades than he can count from where he was accidentally kicked by his crowd surfing soulmate at a concert—and some part of Virgil is immediately jumping to the thoughts of how this is going to make his relationship deteriorate and another part is thinking about how pretty the marks look but the majority of him is thinking  _ my soulmates just pickpocketed me. _

Virgil spins around and for a moment, the three of them are just staring at each other. The one with a mustache and crop top has the mark matching the one on Virgil’s arm, also now in color. The other is wearing a full suit but their hand looks like somebody spilled paint on it. It takes three seconds for all of this to register with Virgil, and it doesn’t look like the situation makes any more sense to the other two. None of them know what to do.

Then Virgil says, “You two assholes stole my shit!” and they’re off. Crop top veers across the road, running like their life depends on it. And it really might, because Virgil has had  _ enough _ today and he is going to lose it.

Suit takes one step back, hands up like they’re going to placate Virgil, and then they’re shooting down the street like some kind of track star. And Virgil doesn’t have anything else to lose (literally, he only has the clothes he’s wearing now. His pockets are empty and dignity has never been a big point of concern for him) so he chases Suit, yelling like a lunatic. People stare as they go by, but nobody steps in to help Virgil get his shit back.

Virgil is fast but Suit is faster and takes so many turns on the streets that eventually, Virgil loses them. Luckily, he ends up just a couple streets over from his own house, so he staggers the rest of the way there. He has to knock on his own front door, which is maddening, but what can you do? Maybe he’ll start working out to avoid situations like this in the future.

It’s Logan’s soulmate, Patton, who opens the door. “Hey, Virge!” he says. “How-are you okay?” He worriedly reaches out to grab Virgil’s face and starts checking him over like he might be hurt. Virgil shakes his hands off.

“Can I…” Panting, Virgil motions into the house. Patton steps back and practically drags Virgil to the living room.

“Lo, uh, Virgil has a new hat?” he says hesitantly and Logan immediately spins around to see what has Patton sounding so worried. He gasps when he sees Virgil and jumps up from the computer chair he’d been sitting in. Virgil drops the hat he’s holding—when did he even pick that nasty thing up?—and tries not to look too defeated.

“Virgil, what happened?” he asks, cradling Virgil’s face gently, and Virgil leans down to drop his face into the crook of Logan’s neck and wrap his arms around him. He’s still panting, and the new position is doing nothing to help with that. Logan cards his fingers through Virgil’s hair and rubs his back while Virgil tries to find the mental faculties to answer his question.

“Met my soulmates,” he says once he can finally breathe again. He steps back from Logan and drops onto the couch. Logan follows him, putting a hand on his knee.

“Did you run from them?” he asks, and Virgil honestly can’t tell if he’s being genuinely asked or if Logan is trying to lighten the atmosphere. He sighs regardless.

“I chased them,” Virgil says. “Er, one of them, I guess.”

“Well,  _ hat  _ ain’t right,” Patton says weakly, offering Virgil the hat back. He’s tempted to smack it back to the ground and maybe stomp on it for spite, but instead he accepts it and throws it onto the coffee table. Logan looks just as confused as Patton does.

“Why?”

“They’re pickpockets,” Virgil says, “and you may have noticed that I knocked on a door that I should definitely have keys to.”

“They took your keys?” Logan demands.

“And my phone and my wallet,” Virgil adds. “So, yeah, I chased them. Didn’t get any of my stuff back, though.”

“Yikes,” Patton says. “That’s...not good.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil groans. Logan snorts as Patton begins ‘telling him about it’ and flips Virgil’s arm over to see the larger of the two soulmarks. It’s predominantly green but, as with all soulmarks, contains every shade of the rainbow and then some. The other, while being much smaller, contains just as many shades but with much more yellow than anything else.

According to superstition, green soulmarks signify a person who is very money-oriented, often lending themself to a knack for jealousy or greed, and lives for change. Yellow is said to denote a person who is either very happy, smart, and loyal, or someone who is deceitful and should not be trusted.

Then again, Logan never has ascribed to such ridiculous lines of thought. He and Patton have the same primary color—blue—and yet they are as different from one another as night is from day. So these really mean nothing, but the theory is there, anyway.

“I believe we ought to make a police report about this,” Logan says.

“Huh?” Virgil looks away from Patton to see Logan’s face.

“They took your wallet, phone, and keys,” Logan explains. “They are obviously criminals, and we cannot say for certain what other forms of criminal activity they may engage in. Now they have the keys to the house and the address from your license. It would be best if we got the locks changed soon and had police intervention until then.”

“Shit,” Virgil says at the same time that Patton says, “Uh oh.” They exchange a glance.

“We should go get ready and leave as soon as possible to decrease the chances of anything happening,” Logan says, shooing them both out of the room. Virgil trails Patton to the bedrooms to grab another jacket to replace the one he left behind that he firmly blames for this whole situation.

They get ready in a slow thirty minutes. First one of Patton’s shoes is gone, and then Virgil can’t find his other jacket and ends up having to accept one of Patton’s sweaters, and Logan can’t seem to find his house keys or car keys anywhere in the house.

Virgil laughs outright when they are discovered right where they are supposed to be, in the key bowl on the kitchen wall cut out. Logan sighs, exasperated, but he still smiles and takes Virgil’s hand. Patton throws the front door open, prepared to face the world, and all three of them come to a grinding halt.

“Uh, hi.”

“It’s you two assholes,” Virgil exclaims, facing the smug faces of his pickpockets. Somehow, he has a feeling this day can still definitely get worse.

~~~~~

Panting, Janus checks behind him again. He thinks he lost the man, and honestly  _ what a maniac _ , but he’d been fast and followed Janus nearly to his exhaustion point. Janus liked cardio, but Gods A-fucking-bove, that sucked.

He takes a few extra loops through alleys and passes through a few shops to make sure that if he’s being followed, he’ll know before he leads the man to his home. (His  _ soulmate _ , oh fuck, they’re so  _ fucked _ .) He reaches up to adjust his hat and realizes that it’s gone, that crazy man stole it from him, damnit.

Well, he muses, counting through the money in the wallet he has. At least this will be enough to buy him a suitable replacement.

The wallet also contains a driver’s license with an address that he is far too close to for comfort. Pocketing the money and information, Janus makes his way home. They’ll definitely have to talk about this, but for now he’ll do with just getting away from that crazy person’s house.

Remus intercepts Janus on the way home.

“Well, that was exciting,” they say, voice pitched high and breathless. “He called us  _ assholes _ . He already loves us, Jan.”

“I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” Janus says. He grabs Remus’ hand and drags him along the sidewalk. “We could go to prison for that.”

“It’s just pick pocketing,” she says, catching up and swinging their hands wildly between them. “We’re not going to prison for snatching some cash.”

“Remus,” Janus snaps as the house comes into sight, “one of the highest crimes people can commit is doing literally anything illegal to their soulmate. And we just  _ stole from ours _ . We’re going to prison for life.”

“Well, I’ve never been to prison before,” Remus says, taking their shoes off and dropping them by the front door. They lean back, stretching, and then fall into a backbend and scitter into the kitchen. Janus follows them tiredly. He needs a nap and maybe a snack. Today has been too much.

“The one day I don’t wear my gloves out of the house,” he laments. “The one time, and now the stupid, biased legal system is going to send us to die in prison.”

“They’ve never caught us before.” She shrugs and offers Janus a bowl of applesauce. He takes it and stares at it. It’s weirdly green. Applesauce isn’t supposed to be green. “I don’t know why they would now.”

“Because he got a very good look at both of us and is probably going to turn us in.” He sighs. Remus comes over and grabs his hand, soothingly rubbing the rough patch of eczema on it.

“But we’re soulmates,” he says. “Even if he doesn’t know us yet, there’s a connection there. An important one. He’s not going to get us arrested.” He takes a bite of Janus’ applesauce before continuing. “I know you don’t always believe it, but if I have learned even one thing from my brother, it’s that most people in this world care way more than they should about the soulmate bullshit.”

“Sure,” Janus says. “Most people. But he immediately insulted us and then chased me around the street for ten minutes while threatening my life. I have a feeling he doesn’t really care for convention.”

“Fine. You grabbed his wallet, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let’s return it.” At Janus’ incredulous look, they say, “We have his stuff. If he turns us in for taking it, then we’ll be arrested and for whatever reason,  _ you _ don’t want that to happen. So! We’ll just nab his address from his wallet and go over there and give it back. Easy penis, problem solved.” Seeming very satisfied with themself, Remus takes the bowl of applesauce and begins eating it. “This is great. Are you sure you don’t want any?”

Janus stares at him, completely lost. If they go over there, Janus is one hundred percent sure that they are going to be killed in cold blood. That, or the cops will already be there and they’ll be arrested immediately and then killed in prison for crimes against the universe.

But, a tiny, traitorous part of his brain whispers, there’s at least a chance that things will go better than that. Maybe if he lives with someone else, they’ll be able to reel him in and they’ll at least live through the interaction.

“Uuuuhhhhh,” Janus groans, flopping forward onto the counter. “Fine. Fine! We’ll go return all of his bullshit, but I have to eat first.”

“Ooh, ooh. I was just about to throw some ice cream in the microwave! We can share!”

“Real food, Remus.”

“Ice cream  _ is _ real food.”

“Not your ice cream,” Janus says.

“Can’t argue that,” they say cheerily and throw a bowl in the microwave. Janus stares at the coffee maker before getting up and putting it on. If he’s going to survive the next few hours, he’s going to need the caffeine.

“Uh, hi,” Janus says, waving at the three people in the doorway. Remus is holding his free hand and bouncing so extremely that the bag she’s holding is jostling into his leg.

“It’s you two assholes,” their soulmate, the man who Janus discovered is named Virgil, says. Janus winces. Remus lets out a squeal that almost blows out his eardrums.

“Aw, you do love us! See, Jay, I told you it’d be fine.” Remus blows an overdramatic kiss at him from over Janus’ shoulder. He nudges them back and smiles tightly.

“What the fuck-” Virgil starts, but the shorter man with his hair in braids jumps in before he can finish that thought.

“Hi!” he exclaims, waving exuberantly. He’s easily the most stunning person that Janus has ever seen. “Are you Virgil’s soulmates?”

“We are,” Remus says, perfectly matching his enthusiasm.

“We came to return this,” Janus says, thrusting the bag out in front of him. Caught off guard, the man’s smile almost slips but he accepts the bag and checks inside.

“Ooh, Virge,” he squeals. “They’ve returned all your stuff.” He does something with his face that almost blinds Janus from the light it’s giving off. “That’s so nice of you. Come in!” He steps back and ushers them into the house, ignoring Virgil’s sputtered denial. The other man in the house grabs ahold of his arm and pulls him back, shaking his head slightly. Remus’ waltzes in like she owns the place. Janus trails them in, trying not to look too guilty of a crime they definitely did commit.

“Here, have some cookies! I’m Patton! Virgil is my soulmate’s husband. That’s Logan, the soulmate and husband in question!” He giggles and takes a seat next to Janus at the table.

“Pat,” Virgil groans. “They’re  _ criminals _ . They stole from me. What are you  _ doing _ ?”

“Everybody makes mistakes, and they’re trying to make it right,” Patton says. “Plus, they’re your soulmates. You should at least give them a chance.”

“L,” he whines.

“I’m inclined to agree with Patton, dear. You know that.”

Groaning, Virgil throws himself down in the chair farthest from Janus and Remus. Logan takes the seat between him and Remus. Remus leans forward to see Virgil and shimmies his shoulders a bit.

“We  _ are _ polyamorous, just so you know,” he says suggestively.

“Well, I’m not,” Virgil snaps, glaring at the table.

“Aw, chicken’s dicks,” they say. “Oh well. Guess we’ll just have to be best friends forever, then. I’m great at making friendship bracelets!”

“No, no you are not,” Janus mutters as Patton cooes at them.

“Patton, aren’t you also polyamorous?” Logan asks. He looks pointedly between Patton and Janus. Janus flushes red.

“Yeah, I am! That’s so neat!” He misses the point of that question entirely, and Janus could not be more happy about that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Patton smiled at him and asked him-

“I love your fishnets,” Patton adds, motioning to Remus. “I didn’t even know they came in green that bright.”

“Aw, thanks, Cupcake,” Remus says. “I could get you a pair if you wanted.”

“That’d be so nice,” Patton says, leaning forward eagerly. “Do they come in pink?”

“Hell yeah they do.” Laughing, Remus starts telling Patton and Logan about all the leggings and tights and fishnets he’s acquired. Patton scoots his chair around Janus’ to be closer to Remus, so Janus moves a little farther down the table and ends up by Virgil.

“You haven’t had any of the cookies,” he says. Virgil glares at the table. “Here.” Janus shoves one into his hand. Virgil jolts and glares at him. “Eat. One.”

“You could’ve poisoned it,” Virgil hisses.

“Patton’s the one who brought them out,” Janus argues, trying not to get angry enough that whatever the hell is going on gets upset.

“You touched it with your nasty thieving hands.”

“The last thing I touched with my nasty thieving hands was your wallet,” Janus starts.

“Yeah,” Virgil cuts in, “and I’m going to burn it.” They glare at each other.

“Hey, Jay,” Patton says, distracting them both. Janus blinks at him, and sees Remus staring too, just as invested in Patton as he is. “You know, stealing other people’s stuff isn’t very nice. Maybe you should apologize.”

Virgil sputters just as much as Janus does, but Remus immediately says, “Sorry for taking your stuff, Twilight Spookle.” Pattons beams at her, and Janus’ heartbeat sounds in his ears.

“Jay,” Patton says, giving him a stern look.

“I apologize for finding your belongings,” Janus says.

“Finding them?” Virgil exclaims.

“In your pockets. And then freeing them.”

“Virge,” Patton says.

“I-what? No way! They stole my stuff!”

“And they walked all the way over here to bring it back.” Virgil glances between Patton and Logan, who is clearly trying not to laugh, and deflates.

“I accept your apology,” he grumbles.

“And?” Patton sings. Logan actually starts laughing out loud then, and Virgil shoots him a mutinous look.

“And thank you for returning it all.”

“No problem-o,” Remus answers for them both. They turn back to their conversation with the other two.

“Are you going to eat the cookie?” Janus asks.

“No.”

Janus blows air out through his nose. This is going to be such. A long. Day.

It’s almost six when Janus finally convinces Patton that they really do have to leave, and they really would rather not intrude on their dinner. Virgil hadn’t said a friendly word the whole time they were there, and though he does think that not having the cops called on them is a win, it feels hollow with Virgil’s silent condemnation at his side.

Standing in the door, Patton and Remus keep talking. Logan had already bid them farewell and went to do something in his office. Virgil leans against the wall behind Patton, not looking at anyone.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye, Scarebear,” Remus says, wiping a non-existent tear from their eye. Janus waves at Virgil, keeping his arms close to his body. Virgil shakes his head and walks out of the room. Patton sighs. He looks genuinely disappointed.

“He’s going to hate us forever!” Remus cries, falling dramatically against Patton. Patton staggers under his weight, but steadies them.

“He’s just slow to warm up, don’t worry about it. Things’ll be right as rain before you know it.” Stepping back from Remus, Patton leans over and hugs Janus tightly. Janus momentarily forgets how to function with Patton so close, but then pats him softly on the back.

When Patton pulls away, Virgil is standing behind him, glaring. He shoves something into Janus’ chest and snarls at them before turning around and going straight upstairs. “Bye, assholes,” echoes down behind him. Janus pulls the thing he’s now holding away from his body and-

It’s his hat!

“Hooray!” Patton cheers, doing an impromptu dance. “That’s as good as asking you to be friends!”

“We’ll miss you too, Virgey-wirgey!” Remus yells up the stairs.

“Tell him thanks for me?” Janus asks. Patton nods enthusiastically.

“Also, I was wondering if you two maybe wanted to go get coffee sometime?” he asks, holding his own hands. Janus is frozen in the entryway, staring at Patton.

“All five of us, or just the three of us?”

“Just the three of us,” Patton says, smiling at them.

“Hell yeah,” Remus says, grabbing one of Patton’s hands in her excitement. “I’m all in for that!”

“Jay?” Patton asks. They both stare at him expectantly. Janus nods quickly.

“Yeah. Yes. Yeah. For sure. I’d love that.”

“Great!” Patton says. “I know the cutest little place. I’ll text you the address tomorrow.” He hugs them both again, a flurry of quick little squeezes and uncontainable grins. “See you tomorrow!”

Janus and Remus finally make it outside. The door closes behind them. “What. The. Fuck,” he says quietly.

“That went better than I thought it would,” Remus remarks, grabbing his hand and dragging him down the sidewalk. “That’s awesome. We have a date tomorrow. Should I wear the ripped black dress with the blue fishnets or the yellow ‘world ruler’ shorts and a tank top?”

“Uhm, the dress.”

“Or maybe I should steal a pair of my brother’s pants,” Remus says, considering.

“Remus,” Janus says. His head is still reeling and he’s not entirely sure what just happened.

“I told you asshole was a term of endearment,” Remus says. “And we have a date! Look at all the good things picking pockets can do for you!” They swing their hands between them again, grinning wide. “I think you should wear the yellow sweater thing you have on top of the white sun dress.”

“Yeah,” Janus says, and he looks at Remus, the way he’s shining and bubbling up with energy, and pictures Patton, blinding and bouncing with glee. He smiles, too, and tugs a little on Remus’ hand. “Yeah, that might work. Come on. Race you home.”

Hand in hand, Janus and Remus run for home. It’s not everyday you get to go on a date with your soulmate and your other soulmate’s husband’s soulmate. They have  _ planning  _ to do.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr @mediocrity-at-best. If anybody wants to send a request, I'm taking them over there. Everything I write gets cross-posted.


End file.
